Paranoia
by TacticianZephine
Summary: I knew Longarm Prime had something to hide, but I was dishonorably discharged before I could find out what, and expose him. OC-centric. You have been forewarned. Please continue on to another story if this displeases you.
1. Disappear

**So, if you haven't checked out T-Reilani's fic "Broken", which is in the TFA-verse, then you'll not understand my reasons for putting up this fic, and I suggest that you read it. Due to her use of my OC Ember in that fic, which she is doing with permission, the fact that Ember is not my usual TFA OC, and my own need to have an explanation for everyone in my universes, I've written a place for Ember in TFA. This is basically the story of how she got kicked out of Cybertron Intel.**

**Transformers is owned by Hasbro, and Ember and Cobra are mine.**

* * *

I have always been paranoid, which is likely why I survived so long in the Deep-Cover Assassin division of Cybertron Intelligence. I trust few, and I have developed a knack for reading body language, and for reading mechs and femmes to discern their true intent. I run background checks on anyone who seems shady. And Longarm Prime gave off the air of a mech with something to hide.

It turned out that he did, but I was kicked out in his purge of the ranks before I could really find out what. Longarm, if that is even his real name, knew that my partner and I analyzed everything he said, looked for all potential holes in his stories, and were checking the datanet for correlations.

We were an exclusive branch of Cybertron Intelligence, there were never more than ten of us in the unit at once. We are assassins and spies above all else. Our job was to disappear, and to make disappear.

Let me explain. Every time we accepted a mission, we would disappear. We assumed an identity that was created for us. Or, once we reached a certain level of experience, we would create our own. After our target had been neutralized, we would vanish again. We would "move". We would "suffer a fatal accident". Sometimes, we just disappeared with no explanation.

We were the most paranoid of the paranoid. As far as we are concerned, everything is a conspiracy, and everyone is out to get us. You trust very, very few. You even begin to question the actions of your own creators. Very few of us are lucky enough to be bonded (I am not one of them), but I have seen cases where bonded mechs and femmes begin to distrust the one who knows them best, their mate. I do not even know how we bring ourselves to trust our partners.

Yes, I said partners.

As Cobra once told me: "It may be you against the world, but your partner will always be there to bring you home." Our "partner" was not an accomplice in our missions, they were contacts, either on a mission of their own or living on-base until we completed ours.

Cobra was my partner, my mentor, and, above everything else, my friend. We exchanged gifts at Yule, he often spent time at my flat, we went out together on our off-time... we were inseperable. I do not remember a time when he was not the call I made when I was in trouble, under fire, or when I just needed someone.

It was here, understandably, that Longarm began his purge. Where better to start than the division who can spot a fake identity a cybermile away?

I was the only DCaAA to be dishonorably discharged. Cobra was not so lucky.


	2. Suspicion and Sass

**It might be the lack of sleep and the head injury talking, but look at this comparison.**

**Ember = Bones  
Cobra = Booth**

* * *

In addition to basic training, I am also advanced in the fields of theoretical physics, kinesiology, biology, and psychology. I know how 'bots function. I know how to read them. I know how to manipulate them. I know how to kill them.

Which, I think, is why Cobra considered me an asset to Deep-Cover and Assassination. I could never amount to him, however. I think that he had memorized at _least_ forty-six different codes and ciphers, which made my twelve seem like nothing at all.

Cybertron Intelligence, however, had apparently lowered its standards since I joined, however, because let me tell you, Cobra and I had to give a lecture nearly every solarcycle about how to do something. It was awful.

Well, it was during one of these lectures that Longarm Prime decided to make his appearance to us for the first time.

"Agents," he drawled. "May I have a moment of your attention?"

Cobra glanced up. "This is kind of an important lecture," he returned.

"Well, I am kind of an important mech, Agent Cobra. And I suggest you show your new superior officer a little respect."

"Longarm Prime, sir!"

We all snapped to attention, all eight of us, and Longarm seemed pleased. "Now, that's better. I'm afraid I haven't read the file on your unit. What are your names, soldiers?"

As was deemed "correct" by our previous superior, the newest recruits spoke up first.

"Agent Jumpshot, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Gearshift, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Flashburst, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Overdrive, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Vehicon, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Blitz, sir. Rank: Corporal, sir. D-CaA Rookie Agent, sir."

"Agent Ember, sir. Rank: Captain, sir. D-CaA Master Assassin, sir. D-CaA Sniper, sir. Junior officer for this unit, sir."

"Agent Cobra, sir. Rank: Minor, sir. D-CaA Master Assassin, sir. D-CaA Hacker, sir. D-CaA Sniper, sir. Senior officer for this unit, sir."

Longarm nodded. There was something in his optics as he looked at Cobra and myself. I think he knew that we had him marked as "suspicious" from the word go. He drilled us for a few more nanokliks before leaving.

***  
Cobra and I had the same shift schedules. I believe he pulled some cables on that end. It was the end of our shift, and we were the only two left in the bunker.

Now, I might mention that Cobra was old enough to be my sire, so do not go about thinking that we were anything but friends, even though I do prefer my mechs older. I know where the mind goes when this sort of thing occurrs.

"Ember, are you free tonight?"

"Mmm, yes, my date for tonight cancelled, why?" I had not had a date, it was a standard joke. I rarely got dates at that point in my lifecycle.

"Maccadam's?"

"Nnnnn, not Maccadam's, but I _would_ like to go for drinks." I placed my last patrol report on the stack of "outgoing" tablets and stood for a klik to unlock my knee joints. "Hmmm, perhaps Clash? I miss Clash."

"I could do Clash. Clash is good."

"Clash, then." It took me a klik to realize, but... _I_ was the one who usually paid for our nights of going out to get overcharged. "Where did you get credits to go drinking?"

"Same place you do, I have a job. Except I get paid more for my job. Rank, you know."

"Thank you for rubbing it in. I so enjoy being reminded that I am being punished for my rank as well as my gender."

"What?"

"Wingblade, the Captain that is assigned as Security in Public Archives? He makes nearly twenty-five percent more than I do. And I have been working here longer."

"Hum." Cobra shuffled his datapads at this, pondering it. "Don't you get pay spikes after Active Missions?"

"Well, yes, but so do you, and so do the rookies. It is because I am a female. Statistically, females make twenty-five percent less than males. And not to _mention_ the whole glass ceiling-"

"Nep, I am having none of your 'the oligarchy is gender-biased' slag, Captain. It's only in this division because they don't have laws against it that apply to CI."

"They ought to."

"Well they don't. Now hurry up so we can leave."


	3. Being Followed

**This one got done surprisingly fast.**

* * *

"So, what do you think of the new Prime?"

"It is too soon to tell," I shrugged, taking a seat at the bar. "But there is just something about him that makes me worry."

"Hm. I'll have a Visco, please."

I looked up in time to see the bartender ask him "and for your female friend?" I started to say something, but Cobra beat me to it. "She'll have a Turazene."

In case you do not know, a Turazene is a drink that is one part turpentine, three parts acetone, and one part benzene. It is quite potent, until you develop a resistence to it.

You see what I mean? We were as close as could be. He knew my favorite drinks, and I knew his. Visco and High Grade for him, Visco, Turazene, and Turpentine Sunrise for me, if you were curious.

"Am I really that predictable?"

"Yes. You are. Your habit is bad and you should feel bad."

I had to admit, he was right, but for some reason, I felt compelled to argue with him. "Well... I was more in the mood for a Turpentine Sunrise anyway."

"Your lying face is bad and you should feel bad."

Every.

Single.

Time.

***  
Some say that everyone has multiple personalities. There is the one you normally have, and then the others that come out when you are overcharged. I knew every single one of Cobra's. Mainly because he was the one who _got_ overcharged.

First, there was Mr. Smooth. He was possessed of a seemingly-endless supply of the oldest, most cocky, lamest pick-up lines known to mech. Femmes would laugh, some would even talk to him out of pity.

Next came The Comedian. He _thought_ he was funny. But his jokes were nearly as bad as his pick-up lines. Some laughed, simply because of how bad they were. Some laughed because they were overcharged themselves.

After him came The Millionaire. The one who bought drinks for everyone in the vicinity.

On the rare occasion that Cobra got _so_ overcharged that the bar threw us out, the next personality to make an appearance was The Sparkling. He seemed to lose all ability to speak properly, or walk correctly. Fine motor control vanished entirely. Vomiting happened. These were the lunarcycles that I brought him to my flat. At least he was a good recharger.

I was on my third Turpentine Sunrise and tracing the rim of the cube with my finger. A mech clamped his hand on my shoulder, and slurred right into my audio.

"Hey, gorgeous, what else can you do with those hands?"

I glanced up at him. "Strangle you."

Obviously, I can hold my High Grade. The skill was possibly a remnant of my days in my higher education academy. I had not been much of a "partier", but the ones I did attend were wild.

Well, Cobra spotted the mech with his hand on my shoulder, and was having none of that. He decided that it would be much more prudent to punch this mech in the face.

Needless to say, after a small barroom scrap, Cobra and I were asked to leave.

It was a Sparkling-type of lunarcycle. I was left to drag him back to my flat. He was making an unholy ruckus. I was accustomed to it, however, and kept my head high as I escorted my friend through the streets.

We finally made it back to my building, and I waved to the doormech to let me in, flashing my resident identification. He nodded, and set to unlocking the door.

And it was then my misfortune to notice our new superior watching us from the mouth of an alley right across the street.

How could I not have seen him following us?! How did _Cobra_ not see? ... All right, that one was not a question. But still I should have seen _something_!

"Sentry, could you please hurry? I can feel him losing consciousness."

"Of course, Miss!" His fingers flew to type in the codes. The doors slid open, and I rushed Cobra inside and up to my flat.


	4. Questions

**The next chapter is just to develop Em and Cobra's outside personalities, this one is just to include some hungover Cobra. Because he's fun.**

* * *

I was showering when I heard Cobra wake from his overcharge-induced recharge. I had not gotten much rest myself, I had decided to spend the entire lunarcycle peering out of my berthroom window. I was thankful for the regulation black-out optic shutters that I had had installed when I first joined Intelligence, as I could watch and not have the glow of my optics give me away. Longarm apparently did not notice that I was staring at him for an additional five megacycles until he vanished from my sight.

Questions raced across my mind.

Why would he be watching me? What had I done? Was he just observing me because I was a veteran and had been working in Intelligence since before he was even a thought? Or had he managed to find out that I read his file?

I did not bother questioning why he knew where I lived: that was the least of my worries. As Head of Intelligence, he surely had his ways. I had one family contact listed in my file, he could have easily contacted her for my address.

A crash from my living room brought a new wave of questions to the front of my mind.

Was Longarm even watching _me_? What if he was watching _Cobra_? But then... how would he know that Cobra would come home with me? Usually, I took Cobra home, and if I had managed to find a companion for the night, the mech and I would come back to my flat, or go to his.

The _only_ way Longarm could have known, even if he had heard Cobra invite me for drinks, was to have followed us.

I turned off the shower, dried off, and ventured out to make Cobra breakfast.

"Emmi... food..."

"You sound like my sister," I scolded him. "Please act your age."

"Feed me."

"All right, all right. What did you break?"

"... Nothin'..."

I sighed, but continued onward to the refectory to fix breakfast. On my way, I spotted the broken item. Which happened to be a tri-fold digital holoscan frame containing the most recent holoscans I had of my family. Luckily, only the frame was broken, the holoscan chips were intact.

"Did you break my holoframe?"

"... it jumped."

"You are hungover."

"Yes."

I sighed. "If it was not my solarcycle off, and if I did not have a family event to go to, I would let you recharge it off here-"

"It'll clear up once I get non-overcharging fluid in me."

I ignored him. "-on second thought, perhaps you should stay here to begin with. I have reason to believe that Longarm was following us last night."

"... What."

I told him what I had seen, and each of my theories, and Cobra shook his head. "He's a shady mech," he informed me.

"I know this."

"Look, I better go with you to your family thing. If it _is_ you he's after, I'm _gonna_ be watching your back." He put his hand on my shoulder. "That's what partners are for. And I'll be damned if I let you go anywhere without back-up."

"... You just want free food."

"You really know how to kill a moment, don't you? Is that something they teach now?"

"How am I going to explain you? My family does not know what I do for a living."

"'Hi, I'm Emmi's roommate!'"

"... If you embarass me, you will disappear."

"Would I do a silly thing like that?"

"Yes. Yes you would."


	5. A Family Affair

**This chapter was mostly done to outline Ember's family, but it turned into more than that.**

* * *

We managed to convince my family that Cobra was, in fact, my roommate, and everything generally went off without a hitch, which is extremely difficult to achieve, given the size of the clan.

Please understand: I have four brothers, Spike and Knock Out, who are older than me, and Pixel and Thrash, who are younger, and two sisters; Blades and Luna. I am the oldest sister, the third-sparked youngling.

My creators are both mechs, which is not uncommon on Cybertron. My sire is called Prowl, and my mother is called Jazz. They are veterans of the First War. I am named for my sire's best friend, who was killed in the final battle by Megatron himself, taking a fatal headshot to protect my sire. I have seen holoscans, and I find that I look somewhat like her.

My sire is a brilliant mech. After retiring from the Autobot Army, he pursued a career as a lawyer. My brothers Knock Out and Pixel seem to have inherited his intellect. It would be hard for me to hide anything from them... if lying was not my job description. I have always told him everything, and he is very skilled at picking out small details. He was the problem I foresaw, but strangely, he did not present the obstacle I thought he would. That honestly worried me.

My mother, however, is not as observant. I expected no trouble from him at all.

Pixel and Knock Out are also difficult to fool. Knock Out is the second eldest of us all, and he and I are the closest in age, only a little more than one gestation period apart. Spike is quite fond of saying that I was an accident because of this fact. Pixel is younger than Blades. They are nearly as meticulous about miniscule details as our sire.

My sisters are not nearly as bright. Luna is barely an adolescent, as the youngest, she is the only one of us not to have any memories of the Second War, and while she is an intelligent femmeling, she is just too easily distracted. Blades, who is the next-sparked after me, is the last youngling to have memories of the time before the Second War. Between her and Pixel, there is the largest age gap, and thus, Pixel knows nothing of life before the Second War began. Blades has, unfortunately, never cared much for anyone but herself. I will admit, Knock Out is also incredibly vain, but at least he pretends to take an interest in anything around him.

When no one picked up on my lies, I could not help but feel guilty. I was lying to my family. But, I reminded myself, it was strictly for the safety of all involved, including them.

... Do you recall how I stated that our event went off _generally_ without a hitch? Well, there was one considerable hitch.

As I was talking to Knock Out beside the pavillion, I could swear that I spotted Longarm Prime watching me from the far side of the park.

**  
On the tube ride back to Iacon, Cobra poked me. "You all right, kid?"

"No. I am worried."

"Why?"

"Longarm was there."

"... I didn't see him."

"He was there, Cobra!" I snapped, causing the three other passengers in our compartment to turn and stare at us. I glared at them until they turned away. "I know it. I saw him."

Cobra shook his head, standing as we pulled into his station. "I'll see you at work, Em. Get some recharge, all right?"

"... You do not believe me."

"No, I do. But I've gotta get off."

**  
"It does not make sense!"

Apex did not even bother to jump at the sound of my exhasperated voice, he was simply too tired of my noise to care anymore. I often found myself talking to my pet turbofox when I was under stress, but this was ridiculous.

"City-state of origin: Kaon... Age is missing... Why does he not want that information made known? What is he hiding? Creators' names... also not listed. Is he orphaned? No, no that is too much of a coincidence."

The light on my vidscreen blinked, signalling an incoming call. It was my creators' designation, so I answered.

"Hello?"

_:Emmi? It's Luna!:_

Why was Luna calling? "Hello, Luna, what can I do for you?"

_:There was a mech here, asking about you. Sire and Mother don't want you to know.:_

"... What did he look like, Luna?" I demanded. "Describe him."

_:Um... well, he was tall, and he had black, gray, white, and teal plating... ooh, and a red spot above his optics!:_

"Did he say who he was?"

_:He told Mother he was the Head of Cybertron Intelligence. Why is Cybertron Intelligence curious about you, Emmi?:_

"... Luna, listen to me. You tell Sire and Mother that that was a prank. That was not real. And if you ever see that mech again, I want you to hide from him and call me right away, do you understand?!"

_:... Y-yes, Emmi... I understand...:_

"I did not mean to raise my voice, sweetspark. Now, go recharge, all right?"

_:Okay, Emmi. Love you!:_

"You too."

I hung up, and with a sweep of my arm, knocked the files and datapads from my desk.

"YOU SON OF A GLITCH!" I shouted toward the darkness outside my window. I did not know if he was out there, but I suddenly did not care if he was. "YOU STAY AWAY FROM THEM! IF YOU EVER COME NEAR MY FAMILY AGAIN, IT WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER DO!"


	6. Nightmare

**Did a chaaaaapterrrrrr.**

* * *

My dream that lunarcycle was... troubling.

I never put much stock into those who claim that their dreams can tell the future, but after that one, I am not so certain. I could not make sense of it, even now, I cannot fathom what occurred in my subconscious, but in my dream, I was being executed in my own recharging chamber by a figure I recognized as my new superior.

Intelligence Agents are all expected to master many forms of this art. Mainly the silent ones. My personal specialty is suicides, but Longarm's, I knew from reading, was neck-breaking.

There are many forms of neck-breaking, but there is one basic form that all of us know. One that no mech or femme can fight.

One digs the thumbs into the hollows of the target's neck, crushing the speech synthesizer and rupturing the main energon line. While the target tries to remove your hands, you pin the target's torso to the wall or ground, and twist the neck until you hear the spinal column break.

He had already ruptured my energon line, and was twisting my neck. I jolted awake as I heard the tell-tale snap of my spinal column, knocking poor Apex from his comfortable ball on my abdominal plating and to the floor.

I felt... off as I readied myself to leave for work. I always close the curtain when I shower, even if it is only myself and Apex. But I kept it open, and I watched the door to the washrack non-stop. Breakfast was prepared hurriedly, I nearly forgot to feed Apex.

As I left my flat, I was filled with a feeling of overwhelming dread. This feeling did not vanish when I stepped into the tube station, nor when I stepped out of the one nearest the Metroplex.

If anything, the closer to work I got, the stronger the feeling became.

Almost as if I knew what awaited me.


	7. Dread

**Last official story chapter!**

* * *

Have you ever walked into a room and realized that the inhabitants of it have just been speaking of you? Growing up with my pack of siblings, I encountered this often. Usually with my sisters and mother.

But somehow, this was even _worse_.

Jumpshot and Gearshift were the first to meet my gaze, but quickly cast their optics down to the floor. Flashburst and Overdrive flanked them, and it was only after they moved that I spotted Vehicon and Blitz standing beside Longarm Prime like guards. The feeling in the pit of my spark grew colder, and my entire being felt as if it was trembling. I had only felt this feeling a few times before, and the events that occurred were never good.

"Longarm Prime, sir," I saluted, keeping the nervous shaking out of my voice. "To what do we owe this... pleasure?"

"Ember, I'm afraid I must inform you of an extremely unfortunate event. Your partner Cobra was found murdered this morning in his apartment."

"What? No... no! How could this be, I just saw him! How could..."

I looked right into Longarm Prime's optics, and I knew.

I.

Knew.

My dream was not a result of intense paranoia, it was a warning. A revelation. An exposure.

Longarm, if that was even his _real_ name, had murdered Cobra.

Had murdered my partner.

Had murdered my _friend_.

"You! It was you!" I yelled. "You son of a-"

White hot rage coursed through my veins, and I was unable to stop myself from a physical reaction. I jumped blindly forward like a metalynx, clawing at whatever was in my path. The next thing I knew, I had Longarm pinned to the ground and was snarling like an animal.

All right, I admit, attacking my superior was _not_ the best course of action. Especially when there were six mechs, each one twice my body mass, protecting him. Blitz and Jumpshot pinned my arms behind my back, and Longarm stooped to bring his faceplates level with mine.

"You were going to be given a brief period of time off to mourn your partner, but because of your violent reaction, and your attacking a superior officer, you will just have to settle for a dishonorable discharge." He stood, looking at Blitz. "Get her out of here."

Blitz looked at me. "Sorry, Ma'am," he apologized, dragging me back toward the door.

"YOU ARE GOING TO PAY, LONGARM!" I screamed. "I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS, IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DO!"

The last memory I have of that solarcycle is that triumphant _smirk_ that Longarm dared to throw me as the doors slid closed.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue: because.**

* * *

I had to leave Iacon after that. It was not safe, especially since he knew where I lived. I moved to Axiom Nexus, where I have gotten a job as a singer at a club here: an extremely private, civilized, dining sort of club called The Lounge. That pays well enough, but I occasionally show my faceplates at Elektrik, which is a lunarclub a couple blocks north, just for a little bit of extra money.

I have upgraded from a rented flat to a small residence of my own, with a real yard and everything. I missed having space. Members of my family visit much more often than they used to, which is fine by me. Luna has not seen anymore suspicious mechs.

I came clean to my sire about my previous job. I told him absolutely _everything_. He told me that I had done the right thing by investigating Longarm as a suspicious character. I do not know why, but hearing him say that I had done something right made everything a touch better for a little while. He and I meet for mid-solar meals once or twice a quartex.

I am very successful now, but my past still haunts me. Sometimes I swear that I see Longarm in the crowds. I hear things outside of my window, and I will not recharge for several solarcycles. Apex has been joined by a houndroid simply because I need to feel safe.

Whenever I offline my optics, I can see his faceplates so clearly. Especially that _smirk_.

He smirked at me with such an air of superiority. As if he had become privy to all of the secrets of life and the universe, and I had not. As if he had won a long-fought battle.

And why not? He _had_ won.

He had assassinated one of the agents that could expose him for his lies and fired the other, cutting off her access to the databanks needed to find out his secrets. He has forced me to live in fear that he will one day return to finish me off. He has nearly driven me mad. I will forever be forced to live with the guilt that Cobra's death was my fault.

But I will never rest until he has paid for his sins.

Longarm had only won the battle. The war is just beginning.


End file.
